Scammed
by sweetondean
Summary: Dean's credit card gets rejected.


Dean Winchester drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of his beloved Impala, his right hand pressing his phone to his ear. The heat radiating across his cheek.

"Come on," he said, moving the phone in front of his face to glare at it.

The Impala door opened with a groan, and his brother, Sam, folded himself in, sliding onto his seat and tucking his long legs under the dash. He was nursing a tray with two large coffees and one sticky looking pastry.

"Still on hold?" Sam said, handing Dean a cardboard cup.

"With the worst freakin' music ever!" Dean grumbled.

He turned his phone towards his brother and hit the speaker button. A crackling, muzak version of_ Afternoon Delight_ filled the car.

"Geesh," Sam said, with a grimace.

Dean hit the speaker button again, silencing the cacophony of electronic notes. He put his phone back to his ear and grabbed the pastry from the tray on Sam's lap, shoving a large bite of it into his mouth.

"Mm sthick ov wating," Dean said, through a mouthful of food. "Ib beem ober thirby munmits"

Sam stared at him. "Dude, I didn't understand a word you just said."

Dean took a loud slurp of coffee and wiped his face along his sleeve.

"I said, I'm sick of waiting, it's been over thirty minutes!"

"So, hang up," Sam said with a shrug.

"And lose my place in the queue? No way."

Dean angrily packed his mouth with the rest of the sugary treat at the exact moment a customer service member picked up his call. Quickly taking a gulp of coffee, he attempted to choke down the remnants of pastry while motioning wildly for Sam to hold his cup.

"Yes. Hello," Dean spluttered into the phone, as he struggled to swallow his breakfast. "I want to check my credit card … Because I just went to use it, and it got rejected!"

He turned to Sam and rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation.

"What. Oh yeah. Hang on." Dean scrambled for his wallet, lifting his butt to extract it from his back pocket. Placing the wallet on his knee, he held it steady with an elbow while he pulled out his MasterCard. "Okay. It's 5555 6466 8132 0000 … Vincent Cooper. 12 September 1979," he said, then waited silently.

Sam watched his brother, eyebrows raised, an amused swirl of lines clustering in the middle of his forehead.

"My last transaction?" Dean carried on. "Um." He glanced sideways at Sam. "It was an online purchase … You need me to confirm the purchase? But why? Can't you see the purchase? … Oh. Right."

He brought the phone closer to his face, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece and twisting inwards towards the window beside him.

"Anime Heaven," he whispered into the device.

After a beat of silence, Dean closed his eyes and repeated himself, this time in his normal voice.

"ANIME HEAVEN."

Sam let out a snicker followed closely by an "ow!" as his brother expertly reached across and thumped him without even looking.

"Yeah, that's been the only purchase," Dean mumbled. "The card was brand new … No. I definitely didn't order forty pair of Nikes." He turned to Sam, "Son of a bitch," he said. "I knew it. Someone scammed my card!"

Before Sam could respond, Dean held up a silencing finger.

"A-ha. Okay," he continued down phone. "Yup, absolutely, cancel it. That'll screw up the fitness freaks." Dean gave Sam a triumphant thumbs up. "And just to clarify, I'm not responsible for that money, right? … Awesome. Yeah, okay, no that's it. Thanks."

He ended the call and turned to face Sam.

"Can you believe it. Freakin' credit card fraud! Scammers. What ass-wipes. At least we don't have to pay for it."

Sam gapped at his brother.

"Dean, we never have to pay for it."

"What? Yeah, well. That's not the point."

"That card was a scam. Vincent. Cooper. We live on credit card fraud!"

"Not the same."

"Technically it is."

"Yeah. But we're not stealing from anyone."

"Technically we are."

"Banks don't count."

"Technically they do."

Dean glowered at Sam, before turning away and starting the car. She roared to life with a satisfying thrum.

"Anime Heaven, Dean?" Sam said with a smirk.

"Shut-up."

"Really?"

"It's an art form!"

The noise of screeching tyres mixed with Sam's raucous laughter, as Dean floored the gas.

-FIN-


End file.
